


You Thought Hell Was Hot

by strugglingsemicolon



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strugglingsemicolon/pseuds/strugglingsemicolon
Summary: Mammon is not fooling anyone...except Imogen. Satan is sharp enough to see through it all, and Asmo loves to meddle in the love affairs of others. Can they help these two bumbling idiots see what is obvious to everyone else?
Relationships: Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I took a long break from writing but Obey Me! has me feeling some inspiration so I'm working on getting back into writing.
> 
> This fic is mostly based off things that happen in the game but expanded on. I will say here and now: the fic will contain spoilers for the main game, the event lessons and DevilGrams. I will NOT be giving a warning at each chapter of what spoilers are within. Honestly because I find it hard to keep straight what's canon and given tasks, what I unlocked through cards, and what is just headcanons inspired by my own playing. So this is your only warning that reading ahead may reveal parts of the game you hadn't experienced yet. 
> 
> Focused primarily on a romantic relationship between Mammon and a named MC. I know most people prefer to have these fics written in second person and gender neutral but I've never been able to manage that style. At this stage it's innocent. I'll change tags as things goes along.

“You never did tell us your type, Imogen” Asmo pointed out. This was supposed to be a time for completing homework, but whilst she and Satan were studying Asmo was being...well, himself. So far out of his chair he was practically lounging on the table, admiring his reflection in the glass doors of the bookshelves rather than looking at the work on the desk.

Imogen felt heat rushing to her face and though she tried to keep her tone casual it held a quaver that betrayed her.

“I don’t see why everyone is so interested” she muttered, tipping her head forward so that the waves of her hair tumbled forward. Asmodeus reached forward immediately, tucking the auburn mass back behind her ear to reveal the pink blush in her cheeks.

“Oh Imogen come on now! You can’t have missed that we all wanted to know because we hoped it would be us!” Asmo made it sound so simple, his laugh as bright as silver bells. She wished she could find it all as amusing as him.

“I seriously doubt that ‘all’ of you brothers are thinking that. Just you Asmo, always wanting to hear how pretty you are”. She tried to keep her tone teasing and light, tried to keep out the sadness. One of the brothers did have her attention...whether he was her type or not she couldn’t say, but it hardly mattered given that she’d already fallen for him. It had not been planned, at the first meeting it seemed impossible she could even tolerate him...yet, weeks later, here she was, hopelessly devoted to Mammon while he snorted and sneered and complained about humans.

“Well yes but you haven’t said me have you? So I’ve been denied hearing it the compliment I went fishing for”. There was a pink pout to accompany the words, Asmo lowering his gaze so thick lashes lay on his porcelain cheeks. Beautiful as ever...but not her type. His comment did make her giggle though. He was so unashamedly seeking all the attention and adoration, every limelight, blatant and almost proud of his demanding nature. Before she could quip back that in his case it was never subtle enough to be deemed just as fishing, Satan had joined in the discussion.

“I don’t think Imogen would have picked you Asmo”.

Satan made it sound so matter of fact but those piercing eyes saw far too much and Imogen turned away to hide her expression, reaching for a book as an excuse.

“Truthfully I didn’t either”.

Now that caught Imogen’s attention. Turning back to Asmo, eyebrows raised, she was surprised to see him looking relatively serious.

“I’m sure it’s one of us...but not me. Nor you, Satan dear”.

“You sound very sure” Satan pointed out, his tone dropping into icy waters.

“Of course. I’m the Avatar of Lust my darlings, do you think I can’t recognise somebody in the throes of an infatuation? When all seven of us spend time together, I can tell Imogen is experiencing the frisson of attraction for somebody - but not now when she’s just with us two”.

Her cheeks flushed even as she buried herself in the book. It had not occurred to her Asmo could tell that easily. Lately she had been spending a lot of time with these two, since entering into a pact with Asmo, and had been enjoying their company.

When Asmo wasn’t twitterpating about himself he knew a lot about theatre, and the trio could discuss the arts. They were easy company as well. Asmo was shameless in all attempts to gain attention and adoration, and the most touchy-feely person she’d ever known - but there was both a consistency and a safety in that. She never feared he was offended that she wasn’t one of his romantic admirers or that he would pressure her into anything she was not comfortable with, the lustful demon would groom her hair and cuddle close but only when she was comfortable with the contact.

And Satan...was, except when riled, steady. Serious. An excellent conversationalist and good company. When it was the three of them there was no need for his anger either and his best qualities shone.

But they weren’t her type. This was friendship - not romance. And though her pink cheeks betrayed her Imogen remained silent on the topic of which of the brothers she’d look to for more than friendship.

“Well if Imogen won’t tell us we’ll just have to speculate - what do you think Satan?”

Satan looked intrigued, as though her crush was a mystery to be solved - and that had her nervous. He was too clever and insightful, he saw too much...the last thing she wanted was that beam focusing on something she found embarrassing.

"I’d say Beel”.

"Oooooh, you hear that Imogen? Satan thinks you’re into muscles!”

“Did I say Imogen’s type in terms of physicality only?” Satan began to tick off on his fingers. “Beel is loyal and protective, he cares deeply for his family so Imogen can be sure he has a good heart, he’s relatively steady, and his only vice is the inability to keep his mind off food half the time”.

"Anyone would think he’s your type!” Asmo teased, his figurative feathers ruffled at extra attention Beelzebub was receiving in this discussion.

“Not at all; I’m thinking about this from Imogen’s perspective” Satan insisted. “I would consider it a logical approach”.

“Well now I feel guilty I haven’t fallen for Beel”. It was meant to be a joke but Satan pounced at once.

“So not Beel? The list narrows further then” he pointed out, a rather smug smile crossing his face. Imogen decided this was the moment to shut down the discussion.

“Look, it doesn’t matter” Imogen insisted, but Asmo was not yet finished.

“But Imogen don’t you see! Everyone wanted to know because everyone wants to be your type - so just reveal it, the romance begins and I can plan a wedding! Oh and you could stay here in Devildom with us forever! I so love a happy ending - if you tell us now I’ll even promise to make sure your wedding dress is more beautiful than mine!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the rosy and impossible picture Asmo was painting.

"You can buy yourself all the dresses you want, Asmo, I won’t be wearing one. I’m a stupid human remember? In 9 months I’ll be back home”. Sadness tinted her voice as she remembered that her stay here was not forever – but Satan made a deduction that pulled her mind back to the present.

“Mammon”.

“What about him?” Asmo looked confused but Satan was sharp. The look into those aquamarine eyes was pointed at her with laserlike focus, gleaming with knowledge, and Imogen knew she had said too much, had dropped too many clues and Sherlock Satan had pieced them together.

“I must say I’m surprised; I wouldn’t have thought you’d chose Mammon”.

"What?! Oh Imogen! Mammon?!”

The blush on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t face either one of them, instead gathering her things to leave, betrayed her entirely.

Asmo reached out, grasping her arms, his fingers soft as silk and yet too strong to escape as he changed his tune.

“Did you think we’d tease you? Oh sweetie, I know we all say awful things but he is our brother you know. We love him and nobody would mock your choice-”

“No - that’s not...it doesn’t matter ok? Mammon is very clear that I’m a stupid feeble human who has been saddled on him as a chore and I....I am an idiot for falling for somebody who doesn’t care. Please - don’t tell anyone?”

It was truly a plea and Satan nodded, whilst Asmo seemed hung up on the first part, both hands flying to his face - and Imogen chose the moment to make an escape and left Lust and Wrath staring at one another.

“Does she honestly believe he means those silly things he says?”

“Well clearly. Remember what she said earlier - not all of us would want her to say we’re her type? She’s thinking Mammon wouldn’t want that and wouldn’t want her”.

“So they’re a pair of idiots” Asmo murmured, sighing dramatically – but the despondent tone disappeared in a moment. “But between us – I'm sure we can come up with a plan!”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off the DevilGram Story unlocked by Levi Dreams of Sleep.

They had started the series marathon seated side by side. But as it progressed and with each shift to become more comfortable their positions got closer and more entwined. By the time her D.D.D. buzzed in her pocket Mammon was half on her lap. His legs were thrown across the bulk of the couch, feet dangling over the arm, his head against her collar bone. Her right arm was wrapped around him, hand on his stomach, his own fingers stroking along her knuckles idly. Her left hand was buried in his hair, fingertips rubbing into his scalp and smoothing through the soft strands, so close she could smell the cologne and shampoo - a spicy scent that in the human world she probably would have found overpowering but made sense here in Devildom, a smell that made her think of the desert, or the wall of heat you walked into leaving the airport on holiday. 

“Who’s that?” He demanded, grumpy as he was jostled and forced to move. Imogen lifted her hips, pulling the device out and opening up her texts. 

“Levi” she murmured. The hand had left his hair to grab her phone and now she gently slipped her fingers away from his grip so she could type out a reply. 

“What does he want?” 

“Says he can’t sleep and asks me to go to his room”. 

The noise that left him was less than words, an annoyed exhale - but then as Imogen began to slide out from underneath him Mammon exclaimed in protest. 

“Oi - whaddya doing?” 

“I just said - I’ve been asked to go to Levi’s room”, confusion clear. 

“But we’re half way through the series!” 

“You can stop it here and we’ll carry on. We should both get some sleep anyway”. 

“I’m not tired. And I’m not stopping just ‘cause Levi’s bothering you, and then you’ll get confused and you’ll keep asking me questions - filling you in is gonna be effort for me human”. 

Whenever he called her ‘human’ she took it as a sign to walk away. He always did it when he was feeling needy or vulnerable and refusing to admit it. The problem was, it hurt her as well - and she was equally unable to explain her feelings. What was the point after all? In a matter of months, she had to go home, and would never see him again. Giving voice to those feelings would not make it less painful. 

“Ok well...I’ll find some time to catch up”. 

“Why you gotta go see Levi anyway? Tell him to go to sleep, he’s a big boy, he can cope”. 

“You know he spends all night playing games - if he’s trying to sleep that’s a good thing, so I’ll go see what he wants. Night Mammon”. 

When she left the room he threw himself back down on the couch with a thud, yanking out his own device. Despite what he’d said he’d lost all interest in the show. Truthfully he’d had little interest before that - his focus had been on the way Imogen’s fingers carded through his hair, the moments her nails brushed his scalp and sent pleasure thrills creeping through his stomach, and her hand under his own. It had been comfortable. Soft. 

Imogen was the only person he could be quiet with in this way. The only person where he could wind down with them and relax like this, without showing off or seeking attention. It was only when others were around, and his brothers were stealing her focus and competing for her attention, that he turned it on and sought out the limelight - determined that the focus of her gaze be on him always. 

She had hardly left his room and he was already eager to send a message. Tapping his nails impatiently he waited, trying to gauge how long it would take her to get to Levi’s room and for the two of them to talk. 

What could Levi want from her anyway? So he couldn’t sleep - how was that Imogen’s problem?! She wasn’t some witch who could cast a slumber spell over his head. Levi had lived a hundred human life times, he didn’t need somebody to bring him hot milk and tuck him in. 

Dropping the phone back to his stomach he tilted his head back, scowling up at the ceiling. 

If he messaged her immediately...well she might get the wrong idea. Thinking he cared about her and missed her and wanted her here constantly. 

But he didn’t want her to be with Levi. He wanted her back here. With those fingers in his hair. 

He fell asleep with those thoughts in his mind, draped across the couch it’s the series still playing - and woke that way in the morning with a crick in his back. He didn’t make it to breakfast, having not set an alarm, and rushed off to RAD feeling disgruntled and crumpled. He hated mornings at the best of time. Mornings where he’d overslept and, these days, mornings where he didn’t get to see Imogen first thing - they were the worst. 

At least outside the House of Lamentation he caught up with her. 

“Where you goin’?” He all but yelled, catching her elbow - and in doing so sending her books flying from her arms down to the ground. Imogen dropped to her knees, scrambling to pick them up, and Mammon joined her in gathering her belongings. He’d crouched before he thought about it, and it was only when he was down there that it occurred to him that he was kneeling in the dirt scrambling to help a human. 

Jumping back to his feet the second the thought occured he found himself on the defensive. 

“You know Lucifer has me looking after you - if you’re just wandering off without telling me some random demon will eat ya and guess who’ll be dealing with that shit?” 

“Like anyone would risk upsetting Diavalo” she pointed out, rolling her eyes at the comment as she struggled to get up from the ground with both hands full. In the early days of her stay here such a threat used to make her nervous, frightened of all the demons - including the Prince and the brothers. It had been months since she arrived, and now? She was confident that Lord Diavolo had enough of a grip on the demons that she needn’t worry too much. 

“Yeah well, don’t take the risk alright? I don’t need that falling on my head”. 

“You get yourself into plenty of trouble yourself, I won’t add to it” she quipped back. She hated the performance, when he told her he didn’t want her around, when he acted like she was nothing but a chore from his elder brother - and she responded to it by sniping back with sass and bitterness. 

It sparked and hummed in the air between them as they headed to RAD and through the first class. Mammon was not as stupid as his brothers claimed and he knew enough to know she prickled at him when he dismissed her - and yet he couldn’t drop the attitude. 

Part of him wanted to. But outside either of their rooms and the two of them alone? He just couldn’t do it. Out loud he complained and bitched as though she were a burden he couldn’t wait to drop, a human beneath his notice; in his head he beat himself up for being an idiot and wondered if his brothers were right to call him a moron. 

Despite those issues though he always engineered to sit beside her in class - and he ignored Levi who was on her other side, and half asleep as usual. 

During the break he leaned round Imogen, an arm draped across the back of her chair, pinning her into place as he addressed the yawning Avatar of Envy. 

“Still tired then?” 

“You really never learn, do you?” piped up the chihuahua on his other side. 

“Actually, I thought that was very impressive”. Imogen knew the voice was Simeon but she was unable to see the angel. Mammon was draped across her desk in such a way she couldn’t lean forward without all but throwing herself on him, and his arm on the back of her chair pinned her into place. He’d caged her in place with his own body – but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. 

“Levi managed to dodge the thrown chalk despite being asleep. I imagine not everyone could pull off such a feat. How are you able to sleep with your eyes closed?” 

“Don’t encourage him Simeon! This is not the sort of thing to compliment him on!” Imogen ducked her chin down, hiding a smirk, but she saw from the sideways glance of Mammon and the way her amused expression was mirrored on his mouth that he hadn’t missed her amusement. 

Levi slumped, tired and bored of the entire conversation. 

“Can’t you guys be quiet? At least let me sleep during the breaks”. 

“School is not for sleeping!” 

“He can’t scare me with that squeak, let alone Levi” she whispered down to Mammon. Even though he’d annoyed her this morning she couldn’t resist joking with him when it came to Luke. The angel had grown on her in many ways – but he would never manage intimidating. 

Mammon glanced up at her – what had been a look of a moment to gauge her expression, determining whether she was still annoyed at him or had forgotten the bickering last night and this morning. Looking at her though...he got lost. Most especially in her eyes. Even shadowed from beneath by exhaustion he found himself transfixed by them, seeking out the glimmers of green and gold in the amber brown pools. 

“Why does it even matter to you Luke? I’m not hurting anyone by napping. It’s not even like anyone cares whether I’m awake or asleep” he grumbled, slumping further down. 

“I’d say the Professor does” Imogen pointed out softly. 

“Well, obviously” Luke concurred, rolling his eyes but apparently spurred on his lecture by Imogen’s apparent agreement. “And I don’t see why you’re looking for sympathy when clearly you were up till dawn playing games again-” 

“I wasn’t gaming actually”. That response left Luke wrong-footed for a moment, and it was Simeon who chipped it whilst the smallest angel faltered in his sermon. 

“Then why so tired Levi?” 

“I spent the entire night with Imogen and ended up getting even less sleep than usual”. Only after his mouth closed did it seem to occur to him how it would be interpreted. There was a beat of silence; both angels’ eyes becoming round as saucers, a movement mimicked by Levi, Imogen and Mammon. 

Luke had turned a shade of bright pink that Asmo would have tried to turn into part of interior design had he witnessed it. “You don’t mean...did you two...actually?!” 

Whether Luke would find his way to the end of a coherent question on this topic was unclear, as Mammon processed what had been said – and was on his feet in a moment. 

His demon form unfurled out of him, uniform disappearing into the black smoke that encircled his body. 

“What did you just say, Levi? I don’t think I quite caught that, little buddy”. Imogen felt a shiver roll down her spine and her stomach rolled over, flooding with heat at the deep timbre of his voice. It felt as though the words he spoke thrummed through her body, finding the chords of pleasure and playing along those strings. She ought to be afraid...but arousal was the reaction she experienced instead. 

Dimly she was aware of the angels sighing, but she couldn’t turn, couldn’t even check Levi’s reaction – all her focus was on Mammon, towering above her, his wings reaching over his head and the smooth skin of his chest exposed. 

“Why don’t you repeat that again for your big brother, huh? It sounded almost like ya said something about bein’ with Imogen. All. Night. Long?” 

Levi yelped, scrambling out of his chair as Mammon continued, true wrath in his voice now. 

“I’m gonna kill you Levi!” As Levi shot out the room Imogen jumped to her feet, holding out both hands with her palms facing the Avatar of Greed. 

“MAMMON! STOP!” She couldn’t match the volume although the words were as loud as she could manage, the order - despite verging on hysteria – enough to have the wings disappearing and a whimper escaping Mammon as he resumed his usual appearance. 

He glanced toward her, the anger disappearing as Levi left the conversation and he was faced with the sight of Imogen, and her confusion which could be mistaken as fear. 

“Dammit...I didn’t mean to do that...it was just a reflex” he assured her. She used the moment to glance toward the door, confirming Levi had disappeared, before turning back to Mammon. 

“Let’s get out of here?” she murmured, ignoring the angels and the others in the room as she headed to the exit. Crossing the room she didn’t look back, sure Mammon would be behind her despite how often he complained. 

She wasn’t looking for Levi. What she wanted was a quiet place and the chance to clarify exactly what had happened. 

The courtyard was empty, and she finally spun around and met the gaze of a sheepish gaze of Mammon, his hands in his pockets. Imogen took a seat on the stone surrounding the fountain, and patted the cold rock beside her. 

His silence said plenty. It was his chatter was meaningless. She knew he was ashamed he’d lost control, and worried he could have hurt her. And she knew he still wanted to hear what she and Levi had been up to. When he sat down, she turned toward him, crossing her legs at the knee and then twisting them further, turning herself into a pretzel as she tucked her toes behind the other calf. 

“Levi couldn’t sleep. We had hot chocolate and sat in his room talking. He couldn’t sleep and I was talking, so he wouldn’t game and get distracted. I know he made it sound weird and Luke was suggesting we didn’t sleep because...y’know...something...” Imogen blushed, turning red herself as she tried to avoid spelling out what had been implied. 

“Nothing happened?” Mammon was not in the mood to disguise his thoughts at this moment. His question was to the point, but already tinged with relief. Offering him a smile she slid her hand closer. He’d folded his arms, the picture of a sulking child, but her fingers crept up to squeeze his elbow gently, ducking her head to look up at him. 

“We just hung out. Same way as when I watch his shows with him. It just happened to be night time”. 

“Hmph”. 

He hadn’t called her human yet, and he hadn’t flounced off or insulted her. That was – had to be - something. With that in the mind Imogen scooched closer to him, bumping her hip against him. 

“You know I’d rather have spent the night with you Mammon” she murmured, her voice low and intimate, her cheeks on fire at her shamefully obvious she was being – but at least she could see he too had begun to colour from the praise. 

“R-r-really?” Mammon was sure he hadn’t hesitated over words for hundreds of years before she showed up. Even though it had been just weeks she had a way of making a compliment sound more valuable than all the Grimm he could have got his hands on, a way of making him unsure he could believe his own ears, a way of making it seem as though he must be dreaming. 

“Really” she murmured, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. He swallowed; his mouth suddenly dry. The air between them felt electric and he wasn’t sure how to handle this tension. The silence felt heavy, as though the weight of all three realms had fallen on them, and he was sure of a need to say something. 

“Well of course you’d rather spent the night with The Great Mammon”. His comment was a joke, his posture straightening, his chin up. “No human ever has you know; it would be an honour. So no more going and sleeping in Levi’s room, ok?” 

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure, in truth, what he wanted to say – or if he had the courage to figure that out.


	3. Chapter Three

Waking up...she immediately regretted opening her eyes. 

The migraine felt like an ice pick having been grabbed through her left temple, a pain so sharp it was almost all consuming – but not quite. It was not enough to distract from the full body nausea, the sense that her knees wanted to vomit, the way the slightest movement had her bones crying out in protest. With a groan reached for the table beside the bed, groping blindly in hope of finding a glass of water...but no luck. The only thing she could be grateful for was the darkness. 

On days like these back home she woke to light. Even with the curtains closed there would be a crack that sunshine snuck through, and the fabric was not dark enough to keep all sense of the daylight out. Here in Devildom morning felt like twilight, a soft blue-purple luminescence that on a normal day had her feeling bleary and unsure whether she’s woken in the morning or afternoon but which today at least was softer on her eyes. 

Imogen rarely wished she was back in the human world, instead of Devildom. But today, even with the advantage of the perpetual dusk, she wanted to be home. There she had painkillers. If she was in her apartment, she would have struggled from bed to take the pills, to get an ice-pack for her forehead, and crawled back into bed with a full bottle of water beside her. The opioids made her sleepy and fuzzy, so she would doze off for a few hours – then it would be rinse and repeat till the pain and urge to vomit was gone. Here she had nothing. 

Even moving made everything worse. She huddled herself in slightly smaller, pulling the blankets up to her face, and then stopping. Managing anything else felt as impossible and unlikely as her scaling Mount Everest – all she wanted to do was lie still and feel sorry for herself till she managed to sleep. 

She was aware of her D.D.D. buzzing and whilst she loathed the sound of It vibrating, she could not bring herself to move and find the device. 

The brothers were impatient types and her silence was not ignored. It was not long before there was a rapid knock on the door and a familiar voice. 

“Imogen? Yo, Imogen! You in there?” 

Her voice was caught somewhere between a groan and a croak as she responded. 

“I’m sick Mammon. I need quiet and rest”. 

Perhaps the words meant something different in Devildom but Mammon apparently interpreted those as a reason to open the door and come inside the room immediately. 

He was often in her room, but not when she first woke up. They spent time together in either her room or his with them in relaxed clothes, lounging around to watch shows – but this was different. This was the first time he’d ever seen her in her bed when she hadn’t showered or dressed, hadn’t gotten up and brushed her hair, hadn’t moved at all. 

The auburn curls were a tangled halo, her brow was furrowed and the blankets pulled up to her chin. For a moment he halted, before crossing to perch beside her on the mattress. 

“What’s wrong Im?” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft – not because he remembered her words but because she looked so small, so vulnerable, so like the mere human he mocked her for being, that it felt wrong to raise his voice much higher than a whisper. 

“Migraine”. 

“What’s that?” 

It didn’t surprise her they didn’t have these issues like this in Devildom, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to explain this. 

“Ask Satan to check his books. Conversation hurts”. 

Mammon faltered, looking down at her. He tried to think of the last time Imogen was this uncommunicative. It reminded him a little of just after she arrived. At that time, she was shy and sad and scared of them all, she could be silent and watch them all like a rabbit in the headlights, limbs tense and read to run at the drop of a hat. Today she didn’t seem fearful, but there was that sense of her being unwilling to talk to him that he didn’t like. 

“Is there anything I can do?” The offer surprised Mammon himself as he made it. Generosity was the opposite of everything he represented – and he truly made it without ulterior motive, without seeking payment, but solely with the intent of hoping there was something he could do for the human before him. Had he been told six months earlier that there would come a day where he would offer to do ‘anything’ for a human he would have laughed, entirely disbelieving. Now he hoped that she’d answer and he could fix this, could help. 

For a moment Imogen didn’t respond, silenced by emotion. Normally she had to deal with these situations alone, there was nobody to help her. 

Tears leaked down her cheeks, her eyelashes sodden in seconds. 

“Whoa!” That was not the reaction Mammon had expected, physically reeling backward at the sight of Imogen crying. 

“I’m sorry Mammon, I just – nobody ever asks if they can help” she managed to explain to him, trying to reassure him, so eager to stop him worrying that despite the pain, the nausea and the aches of moving she forced herself up onto one elbow, opening eyes that shone with more tears wishing to fall. The effort it took was clear and Mammon moved forward, perching on the bed beside her to stop her moving too far. 

There was an odd flicker of anger at the idea nobody ever asked her to help – it felt bizarre that of all the beings in the three realms the first to show her kindness would be him, as the Avatar of Greed – but there was another feeling there as well, an urge to protect her and ensure that changed. 

Naturally though...he said none of those things. 

“Well I can’t blame them if they think you’ll react like this” Mammon said, huffing as though impatient even as his hands tried to push her back against the pillows to relax, his touch gentle despite his words. “Now c’mon - whaddya want?” 

“An ice pack and cold water? Please” 

“That all? That’s how human treat this stuff? Jeez, I figured there’d have been advances”. 

“You guys won’t have the pills I take on earth” Imogen pointed out, lifting herself up enough just to flip the pillow to the cool side before burying her face against the fabric. 

The thought stayed in Mammon’s head as he headed down to the kitchen, as he returned and delivered what she’d asked for. It was not unusual for him to find excuses to avoid heading to RAD – but if he was avoiding school he usually didn’t go seeking Lucifer. 

He caught his older brother emerging from his study. 

“Surely it’s too early in the day for you to be managing trouble Mammon” he sighed dramatically, folding his arms as he prepared to hear whatever disaster had managed to occur before the day even began. 

“I need to go to the human world”. 

“The trip to resolve Satan and I’s curse was a one off, Mammon, you know full well why you are not permitted to travel to the human realm”. 

It did not surprise Lucifer that this comment, despite being entirely clear and dismissive of the request, was insufficient to silence Mammon. 

“It’s not for me, Imogen’s sick” Mammon explained, eye rolling with impatience. That caught Lucifer’s attention. 

“Imogen’s sick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	4. Chapter Four

Mammon had given some brief, rapid garbled account of Imogen not wanting to talk, but Lucifer went to her room regardless. He knocked, waiting for a moment till there was an incoherent whimper he took as ascent, before stepping inside. 

Hands folded at the base of his spine he stood just a foot inside the room as he looked over to Imogen. She hadn’t moved from the bed, but she had lifted her head from the pillow. Her curls were half flattened from lying down, her eyes narrow and shadowed purple beneath, her expression taut in a manner which betrayed pain. 

“Mammon told me you’re unwell” he said, his voice betraying none of the discomfort he felt. Being in her bedroom, with her so clearly vulnerable, felt intimate in a manner which Lucifer lacked a frame of reference for. He did not like situations where he did not know how to react. The mask he wore, of polite concern, did not betray him, but the way he flexed his fingers, hidden from her sight, did. 

“I can’t go to RAD today. Like this” she told him, the effort of speaking through the nausea and agony clear in her voice which was strained and exhausted. 

“I can see that. Is there anything you require?” 

“In Devildom? Just water and ice” she said, lowering her skull back to the pillow in a way indicative that the conversation was over in her mind. 

“Lord Diavalo has tasked me with your comfort during the exchange. If it would assist, I can arrange to visit the human realm today and obtain supplies you require”. The offer was kind, even if delivered in a distant tone of voice that lacked the warmth to bring compassion into his words. 

“In my apartment I have tramadol. If you can’t find that...codeine. Please”. Lucifer nodded and left. 

Truthfully, Imogen wasn’t sure if her apartment would still be there. After three months without her paying rent, she suspected her landlord would have emptied the place, sold whatever he could and thrown the rest out, before finding a new tenant. 

She was an excellent choice for the exchange. There was almost nobody to miss her. She'd lost her job three days before arriving here and had been desperately looking for new employment. Imogen had few friends, by choice more than coincidence, and no family she spoke to. Nobody to report her missing, nobody to wonder where she’d gone. No life to leave gaping in her absence. 

The thought was one that was depressing when she was well, a dark shadow at the back of her mind and encroaching frequently on her thoughts. In her current sorry state it was enough to reduce her to quiet sobs until she fell asleep, which at least gave her a break from the pain. 

Lucifer had curtly indicated he would deal with the issue, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust his older brother to be capable of managing this – and anything else, Lucifer having always proved himself to be entirely capable in every respect - but the itchy impatience that came from not doing something himself that drove him to find Solomon. 

He threw himself into the seat behind the wizard that was most often occupied by Simeon. 

“What’s migraine?” 

Mammon didn’t often – or ever – seek Solomon out for conversation, and one silver eyebrow arched, intrigued by the person speaking more than the question itself. 

“Good morning Mammon” he said, his tone as composed as if this were a frequent occurrence. 

“Yeah, yeah, good mornin’. You know what migraine is?” he repeated the question, impatient as always for an immediate answer. 

“Of course. It’s a human ailment, taking the form of agonising headaches and other physical symptoms. I presume you ask on behalf of Imogen? Where is my fellow exchange student this morning?” 

“She’s sick with migraine. Lucifer went to the human world to get her something. Don’t we have stuff here that could help? Or d’you know some magic?” 

Solomon considered, tilting his head to one side as he turned the question over in his mind. Although he knew of the condition it had never plagued him, and so finding a magical solution had never been pressing. The challenge intrigued though, his mind ticking through options as though flicking through the pages of a book. 

“Demons don’t suffer from pain in the same way, but I would suggest a Draught of Sleep and Glacial Balm – it'll stay cold longer than ice” he suggested after a moment. 

“Can you make that stuff?” 

“Not right now. I can prepare some so Imogen has supplies available for future attacks, if this is something she suffers with frequently. However, Hocus Pocus may stock them”. The sentence was no sooner finished than Mammon was out of his chair, and leaving the classroom without so much as a farewell. Solomon watched him leave, the expression on his face inscrutable. The space was soon taken, still not by its usual inhabitant, but by Asmo. 

“What was that about?” He asked, immediately curious about this as he was so many things. 

“Mammon wanted remedies to help your human house guest”. Asmo turned and looked over his shoulder, though Mammon was no longer in sight, his eyes bright and intrigued.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Migraine continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took me ages - I work full time and have health issues as well as a personal life. If anyone is reading this and hoping for more chapters I can say at this point I have 14k of words written. I don't always write in sequence, and so some of that is future parts that I need to fill in the gaps between then and now, plus editting and the like.

It was hard to know how long she had slept when she woke to the movement of the mattress as Mammon sat beside her. At times like this time lost its meaning, she could have been asleep for ten minutes or ten hours. What she knew was that the pain had not changed.

“Imogen - I brought some stuff to try and help ya” Mammon announced. She blinked, dazed and her vision swimming. The room was dark still, but she could make out the familiar shape and she knew the voice.

“My pills?”

“Nah, Luci’s on that. You wanted cold though right?” The salve glowed softly as he raised the jar into her eyeline. This time, unlike the morning, she had not even lifted her head. For a moment he looked down at her, watching as her eyelids fluttered shut on identifying that her medication was unavailable.

“You gotta at least try it. Should be honoured, having the Great Mammon go out and buy you stuff like this just to help with your feeble human health”.

She made a soft noise in her throat but he could not guess what the response meant. Seeing as she didn’t move he unscrewed the lid himself. The contents within looked like a gel, emitting a faint blue light almost, and cold steam rose from the surface with the smell of mint, menthol and the first frost morning in winter. It felt uncomfortably cold on his fingertips and he hesitated for a moment, surely it was too cold for her human skin to cope with? But the recommendation came from Solomon, a human himself – it had to be safe, right? That’s what he told himself.

Taking a seat on the edge of her mattress and reaching out his hand he touched the cold fingertips to her forehead and heard, almost felt, the sigh of relief.

“That’s nice” she murmured, and Mammon swallowed, awkward suddenly. Her voice was soft and throaty with pleasure, and his mind jumped to other ideas. Other ways she could sound like that. Shifting his position and weight slightly, he pushed that out his mind and returned his hand to the tub, taking more of the substance and adding a thicker layer of the salve to her skin.

“I got Sleep Draught too” he added, watching her closely as he rubbed the salve in gentle circles against her temples.

"Thanks Mammon” she managed after a moment, tugging the blankets up over her shoulders more securely, tucking a fold under her chin.

“Do humans get this a lot?”

“Some. I get them every couple of months usually” she admitted. It was the longest sentence she had managed today and Mammon studied her face, wondering if the salve had helped. The pain that kept her expression so taut was fading from her face like the light with a sunset.

He stood up, ready to go wash the icy residue from his fingers, and as his weight left the mattress she whimpered slightly.

“Where you going?” A little warmth bloomed around his heart at the disappointment she expressed at him stepping away for a moment – and yet that was not reflected in his response.

“Just the bathroom. Think you can cope for that long?” As he walked away, he cursed himself for the sarcasm. _She wants you around and you act like it’s a hassle. Sometimes you really are a moron._

When he returned she had curled up smaller and he swallowed, guilt replacing the annoyance he felt at himself. Crossing the room Mammon hovered by the bed, torn whether to take a seat again.

“Lucifer said he’d get your pills” he added, the mood between them cracking with awkwardness now at his earlier retort. He wondered if he should just leave, and yet the idea of walking out the room made his feet feel as heavy as the walls of the House of Lamentation.

“Will you stay with me?”

“I...y-yeah if you want. W-what d’ya want me to do?” Seeing as she didn’t want noise, binge watching manga or Deviltube videos was out. He’d been teaching her a card game lately, but that wasn’t going to work either.

“Honestly? Could you just...stay with me and stroke my hair?” The request sounded nervous, but his own reaction contained far more anxiety.

“W-w-well... I mean... if that’s what you want... I am meant to take care of you after all” he reminded her. His mouth dry and heart thudding against his rib cage he sat down again carefully, trying to figure out a way to sit beside her comfortably. “How...aahh...”

Slowly she half sat, shifting closer to the foot of the bed and lifting her pillow. He shifted into the space it had occupied – whereupon she dropped the cushion across his thighs and placed her head in his lap. He startled, a jolt passing through his whole body – and the movement elicited a groan of pain and protect from Imogen.

“Sorry - I mean, you startled me. Look, just – let me get comfy”. Reluctantly she lifted her head and sat up again, all rumpled curls and bruised shadows under her eyes as she looked at him. Despite his nerves he couldn’t help but soften at how vulnerable she looked. Swinging his legs up he shifted, back against the headboard, and then decided to make it altogether easier.

“Move over yeah” he said, and sat properly, legs either side of her, before taking her pillow and laying it across his thighs. She immediately lay down again, curled up in the space between his spread limbs, her eyes closed almost before her cheek was against the cloth. Slowly he began to stroke through her curls, fingers sliding into the soft mass to rub slow circles against her scalp – and this time the noise that came out her mouth was that same contented moan, Imogen almost whimpering with pleasure.

"Better?”

She hummed in agreement, one hand sliding across to rest on his knee and squeezing.

“I knew humans were fragile, but I never knew ‘bout stuff like this” he commented. This time there was no response and so he settled down. His free hand pulled out his D.D.D from his jacket pocket but though he glanced at the screen he turned his attention back to her after a second. Even with all the entertainment he had available at his fingertips he found it was preferable to look at her face.

The last time he had felt this tender towards another being had been just after they arrived here, after the loss of Lilith. The grief had hit them all differently, and he had done what he could to provide support to his siblings – urging Lucifer to slow down, protecting his brothers as they sank into the sins they now so thoroughly exhibited as coping mechanisms for their pain. So many centuries ago, so long in which he hadn’t felt this... simple affection, his only greed to be with her always. It was an odd sensation - but not an unwelcome one. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I've not been clear - I intend everything so far to have taken place in a space of time that doesn't exist within the game. I wanted there to be time between Satan's pact and the events that followed involved Belphie, so this is that time.

He hadn’t wanted to make the pact. She’d been in Devildom such a short time, this human whose wellbeing had been foisted on him against his will - but if it meant getting back Goldie he’d have done whatever it took.

_In the kitchen, in front of Levi, he’d agreed._

_“So - how does this it work?” Imogen asked, nervous. Magic was as foreign to her as everything else in the Devildom; she’d never believed in magic before her arrival - or in demons, God or angels truthfully. Only karma. For all she knew this ritual involved blood and sacrifice._

_“Oh it’s not that hard” Levi had explained. “Mammon swears you’re his master and to do your bidding and come to your protection and marks you with a sigil so everyone knows - then you return the favour. The sigils let you summon one another._

_“I don’t want everyone to know, jeez” he’d grumbled._

_“So put it somewhere hidden” Levi responded, rolling his eyes._

_“And put my hand somewhere weird? On a human? No thanks!”_

_“No pact, no Goldie” Levi reminded him._

_“Fine, fine, fine” he looked over at her considering, stood there in some oversized jumper and sweats, small and insignificant and drowning in clothing Beel provided because she arrived with nothing._

_“Roll up your sleeve human” he’d demanded. The uniform and most clothing would hide her arms at least._

_“My name is Imogen” she had reminded him, so little force behind the words despite their intent._

_“Fine fine, Imogen” he’d muttered, and she complied, pushing her left sleeve up to her elbow._

_“Higher than that - d’ya want everyone to see it?” He’d huffed and she complied, pushing it up almost to her shoulder. He’d grabbed her upper arm, fingers curling around her skin. The sigil flowed from him as he spoke the words, golden bright like Grimm, a curling mark of his magic - and when he lifted his hand from her it faded, slowly, a pearly opalescent tattoo in her pale skin._

_“Now you do it”._

_“Where do you want it?” She asked quietly, pulling down her sleeve, fingers hidden by the fabric._

_That caused a problem. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pose topless for modelling jobs after all._

_“Well nowhere people are gonna see it - so not my arms, they’re a Grimm maker. Not having some stupid human ruin that”. With that he had crouched, yanking up his jeans, grunting after a second as he tore the denim._

_“lolol - you’re really gonna let her touch you there?”_

_“Shaddup! I can’t be having anyone know The Great Mammon got forced into some pact, so it’s gotta be where it won’t be seen” he insisted, glaring over at his brother. “There” he said, tapping his thigh above his knee._

_She’d dropped to her knees, her eyes wide and nervous as she’d reached out to his skin. Her hand felt cool on his warm flesh, pale against his golden skin tone as she hesitantly repeated the words Levi told her to say. Her mark flowed from her skin in a soft dove grey glow flooding out her palm._

_The second that glow faded, leaving a pale grey mark, almost faded as though from age in an instant, he had dropped his grip on the denim and turned on Levi._

_“Now gimme my Goldie!”_

———-

How it had gone with all his brothers he was not entirely sure, but the sight of their marks made him wonder sometimes. Levi’s was on her foot - no doubt he didn’t want it seen either, where the corresponding mark on his body was Mammon didn’t even know because the third-born kept it so hidden.

Asmo’s could always be seen - curling about her right wrist, he must have braceletted it with his fingers, the mark bloomed across her inner skin and the veins there were perfume would be applied. He wore his own mark proudly in the same place, all but holding hands with Imogen to form their pact.

Satan’s was on her back, below her collar but high up at the top of her spine. When he’d asked about that Satan had made some comment about the two of them having a more cerebral bond, wearing a smirk at that time. Imogen’s mark on him was the back of his left hand, fingers covering his own - he’d seen Satan glance to it frequently when reading.

Beel had the mark on his outer forearm and had placed his own on her right palm. When Mammon had huffed and demanded to know why he made it so damn obvious Beel had just shrugged. “So if she’s in danger she can summon me easily”. The words, spoken so phlegmatically and matter of fact, had sparked rage in Mammon.

“I’m her first! I’m in charge of taking care of the human! She should be summoning me, not you!”

But of course - he hadn’t wanted the mark to be seen, so of course it could not be reached easily. In a moment of panic she could just curl her fingers into a fist to have Beel by her side in seconds.

He hated that.

She was lounging with him in her bedroom, the room warm to help her maintain her human temperature. Too warm perhaps given that she wore a loose thin t-shirt, scoop necked and sliding off one shoulder. All the other 4 pact marks she had made so far were clear. Only his was hidden by the sleeve. Cross legged on the floor by his feet, hairs bundled up in a bun so looking down he could see Satan’s mark as well as Levi’s on her foot, balanced on her knee, and of course Beel’s and Asmo’s in the hand that held her D.D.D. as she tapped out a message in the group chat.

One hand lifted, rubbing the back of her neck, and the sigil sparked - not a summoning but a reaction to her touch - and he found himself speaking before he realised it.

“Why’d ya let them all mark you so publicly, huh? I’m your first guy and you’re walking round with my brothers’ marks out for everyone to see!”

She startled at the outburst, lowering her phone as she twisted and turned around to look up at him.

“I - you chose where the mark was Mammon” she reminded him. “I just did what you asked. What you wanted”.

“I know that, ch! I just meant you let them have theirs all over you - I’m the one who keeps you safe” he reminded her, frustration clear.

“That’s what they asked for” Imogen told him with a shrug.

“And what, you just let them, huh?” He folded him arms, slumping down in annoyance. Mammon knew it was his fault - that didn’t make him less frustrated.

“I’m sorry but they’re there now - they can’t be changed, can they?”

That got his brain ticking.

“We could try it again” he suggested. “Like - if we repeat it...”

“Would that change it?”

“I dunno! I told ya before I don’t go round making pacts. Only with you”. He sounded so ungrateful and yet she smiled slightly at that.

“You could ask Solomon” she offered. “He has so many pacts he’s bound to know”.

“No!” Solomon would ask why, would have that all-knowing smug smirk he did whenever he thought he had some insight. Plus he’d tell Asmo, who’d tell all the brothers and they’d never let him live it down. “Let’s just try it - what’s the worst that could happen!”

“I don’t know” she admitted. “This stuff is all weird and foreign to me”.

“It’ll be fine. I’m the Great Mammon!” He reminded her, his arms unravelling so he could pat the sofa cushion beside him. “Geddup here”.

Imogen unfolded herself, moving to perch beside him.

“Where do you want it then?” She asked softly. His gaze raked over her body, considering. She always hid her legs - even on times Asmo had pushed her to wear a skirt she wore tights. She never showed her stomach either - and he wouldn’t put it on her hand, he wouldn’t copy his younger brothers. Lifting his gaze to her face - her cheeks pink from his focus - and then zeroed in on her neck.

His hand moved before he spoke, palm curving around the left side of her neck, fingers brushing against the tendrils of hair at her nape.

“I reckon here - so everyone will know you’re under my protection. Nobody will dare mess with ya then! You’ll be under my guard and I’m one of the most powerful demons” he reminded her, chest puffing out with his own importance. Her cheeks had turned bright red right now, her gaze dropping and hidden behind sweeping lashes rested, but she nodded.

“Whatever you want Mammon” she whispered, her tone so soft and intimate and promising that he felt his stomach flood with strange need, his grip tightening on her very slightly.

“W-well...ok...right answer h- Imogen” he cut himself off, blushing now as well. He stammered over the words, repeating that promise. Last time he’d hurried through it, flippant and impatient. Now his voice was lower, softer, full of sincerity.

“ **I bind myself to you Imogen in unholy covenant. I dedicate myself to you, I swear to protect and serve you, I pledge my allegiance and obedience. With this mark I seal our pact** ”. Beneath the white fabric of her shirt the old mark began to glow gold, tendrils rolling out from it, curling up her shoulder to his fingers where a new mark bloomed.

“Ha! See! I told ya! I knew it would work” gleefully he lifted his hand - and watched as the golden light faded and yet neither mark did. Both remained, as did the vine like connections. Two pact sigils, dwarfing all those from before, and even as the initial burst of magic faded it shimmered against her skin. Nobody could miss this, and she would struggle to hide it - his ownership, his interest, emblazoned on her forever.

“Whoa - look at that!”

“What? I can’t see it” she reminded him, bouncing off the sofa and heading to the mirror. She pulled at the top, yanking it lower to see her upper arm, and then lifted her other hand. Wonderingly her fingers slid along the first mark, up the tendrils and to her neck.

“Well - I guess nobody will miss that” she pointed out, stunned although not in awe.

Mammon was thrilled, leaping up to join her and marvel at it.

“Now everyone will know I’m your first guy - and I’m the most important!” None of the other marks mattered now - he had two, and this long design, creeping up higher than she could hide. His human. “Ya can’t make a second mark with any of my brothers, ok? Just me!”

“Don’t worry” she told him, laughing slightly. “Just you - or else I’ll be covered head to toe”.

“Try calling me - let me see” he insisted. Her fingers slid up to the topmost mark, close to her jaw, and in her mind she called out his name. The whole pattern lit up gold, bright and clear against her pale skin, illuminating her - and he blinked, stunned, for a moment reminded of the Celestial Realm as he looked at her.

She’s beautiful.

Quickly he dismissed the thought.

“Alright - where you want to put mine?”

That surprised her as she dropped her arm.

“You want another mark too?”

“Well ya gotta - to seal the pact I mean - otherwise...w-well your new mark might not stay! You gotta do it”. How much of that was true he didn’t know. What he knew what people should know his human wanted him and belonged to him always. The second mark would cement that, set him above his brothers.

“But - when you’re modelling...” she reminded him, blushing slightly as she thought of photos she had seen of him. Topless sometimes, or shirt open for anyone to see, or modelling swimwear - there were few locations on Mammon’s body that were kept hidden.

“What about it? They’ll still hire me - I’m the Great Mammon” he reminded her. “And gorgeous - they can’t replace me”.

Imogen couldn’t disagree with that.

“You pick” she insisted. There was no way she could make this choice. In truth she had never made the choice. She let all the brothers choose where their mark on her skin and her mark on theirs went - she’d never wanted to bother any of them, or cause offence. “Especially if they’re going to be connected - you wouldn’t... want some dumb human pact mark all over your body” she reminded him, her voice low and ashamed in a way that made his blood prickle uncomfortably.

“I mean, yeah of course” he stumbled over the agreement with her words, voice hollow as his brain raced frantically to come up with a response. “B-b-but.. well I gotta have it somewhere people can see it sometimes, or they won’t know it matches. Might think it’s a different demon who made that pact”. It was a feeble excuse. Sigils are personal and woven with magic runes clear to any demon - but Imogen didn’t know it all still and the excuse seemed to work. But where?

“I know - you put it on my chest, so when I’m in my demon form they know - that’ll keep ya safe” he insisted, yanking off the T-shirt he wore to reveal his chest. For a moment she hesitated, staring at the exposed skin and he all but preened under her attention.

“Right here” he insisted, hand over his heart. She lifted her hand, but he stepped away.

“Not that hand, Beel’s mark on that one” he reminded her, taking her left hand in his for a moment, guiding her fingers to his chest. Still she seemed nervous, barely touching him.

“You’re sure?” She checked and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, c’mon already!” Whether she could feel his thudding heart against her palm as she spread her fingers he couldn’t tell, but he was sure he could hear his pulse in his ears. Imogen bit her lip, before lifting her gaze to his face, their eyes locked together as she began to speak.

“ **I bind myself to you Mammon in unholy covenant. You are bound to me and in my service. When I call your name you will be summoned to my side. With this mark I seal our pact** ”.

It was the same soft colour as before, silvery light from her fingers as though the moon were trapped between their skin, and he could feel it like a cool breeze as the mark on his thigh lit up and reached for her touch, up over the bone of his hip, flowing across his stomach and bursting out beneath her hand.

“There. Now nobody will forget who ya first is” he said, satisfied at last as he looked from his own body to her expression. It took him a second to realise his fingers round her wrist kept her hand flush on his chest. He was more interested in the look in her eyes, pupils blown so hide the hazel irises he could stare at for hours to pick out every colour in that ring, the flush in her cheeks had spread down her neck so that the pale pearl of her mark (his mark) stood out more clearly. How long they stood staring at one another, so close, he wasn’t sure - but it was not long enough and came to an abrupt halt as there was a bang on the door.

“Hey! Imogen!”

Mammon dropped his grip at once, grabbing for his shirt as she spun away from him.

They could have her time. He was her First, indisputably.


	7. Chapter Seven

It had started as a thank you from Lucifer to Beel, for having undertaken the task of grooming Cerberus. The sixth born had asked that Imogen accompany them – it wasn’t her fault that the three headed dog was far too dangerous for her to help with his care - and Lucifer had assented. When Lord Diavolo heard there were dinner plans however he misunderstood, somewhat, and immediately expressed it to be a wonderful idea – inviting along all the exchange students and brothers in one swoop. Lucifer could hardly disagree or deny him, and so what had been planned as an intimate evening became a party. 

Mammon had at first been thrilled. Even if it was with Lucifer – so bound by propriety he’d never have hit on the human exchange student in public – and Beel – who treated Imogen like the sister they had lost - the idea of his human having an evening with his brothers and not him had not sat well. 

The journey there had sapped some of his enjoyment, however. Satan and Asmo were leaving her alone for once, thank goodness – the two chatting with Solomon instead - but Simeon and Luke flanked her, with the former so close it had Mammon’s proverbial hackles rising. Imogen having been dressed by Asmo didn’t help. Out of her uniform and in clothes chosen specifically by the Avatar of Lust her hourglass figure was apparent, and when the back of Simeon’s hand brushed her hip Mammon’s expression darkened. 

The angels were at her side at the dinner table as well, Mammon stuck opposite and glowering about it. He was uncharacteristically quiet during the meal, torn between admiration of how she looked in this light, with the warm candle glow playing across her smooth skin and picking out burnished highlights in her hair, her eyes soft whenever she looked across at him, and fury that the angels were there bumping her elbows constantly and leaning in to speak to her over the chatter of the restaurant. 

He all but stomped away when he went to use the bathroom, and on his return his gaze went to her at once – and the way she rubbed her hands against her upper arms. In a second he was behind her seat. 

“Don’t tell me you’re cold inside human – how fragile are ya?” he commented, rolling his eyes. Twisting in her seat the look she gave him was sorry, apologetic and lost – the sweet shyness of the looks she’d tossed his way across the table gone. 

“I’m not used to the Devildom climate. And Asmo forgets that when he picks me outfits”, the latter part of her statement rising in volume to catch the fifth born’s attention. 

“Sweetie, it’s a crime to hide that body under those layers you wear” he insisted, attention caught immediately by his name. 

“I wear them to stay warm!” she reminded him, her tone light and teasing – Mammon’s hands curling into fists at the sound. He only liked when she spoke to him like that. 

“You can have my scarf if you’d like” Asmo offered, beginning to unwind it, but Mammon jolted into action. 

“I’ll look after her” he rushed in with, his jacket torn off with haste that betrayed his feelings even as he kept his voice frustrated. “S’my job after all” he pointed out, dropping the garment over Imogen’s shoulders. 

For a moment she hesitated. On the one hand she hated this attitude he still adopted. Months in and still he acted like she was nothing but a task he hated but had to fulfil if there was anyone around. On the other hand, his jacket was warm, the lining soft, heated from contact with his skin, and she could smell his cologne. The scent of him weakened any resolve she had, and she drew it closer around her and flashed him a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, Mammon,” she murmured, glad for her decision – if it could be called something so proactive, as opposed to being unable to resist – when he beamed before heading back to his seat.


End file.
